


The Manor

by KittieHill



Series: Prompts [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Coming Untouched, Danger Night, Facials, Holmes Brothers, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can finish whenever you like, you know,” Sherlock reassured his brother, “I know you’re older now, and it takes longer to recuperate.” he joked kindly causing Mycroft to grab his curls and pull slightly harder than necessary,</p><p>“Don’t worry about me, baby brother.” Mycroft smiled with a playful snarl and began pulling Sherlock’s head back and forth over his stiff prick; face fucking him hard and fast until the first tingling sensations started in his spine and radiated outwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Manor

**Author's Note:**

> Was asked to write a Holmescest story for the prompt 'Sherlock, Mycroft, Danger night and coming untouched (Bonus for facial!)'
> 
> Hope it works! It was written in about an hour and isn't beta'd, any requests let me know!

Mycroft grabbed his tumbler of Whisky and sipped at it; he looked around at his sumptuous bedroom at the Holmes family manner and sighed. _It would happen tonight_. Sherlock had been nightmarish as usual when it was a danger night which meant that John had called Mycroft who quickly picked up his brother and took him to the old family home away from temptation, well… away from one type of temptation.

The older Holmes knew what they did was illegal, immoral and reprehensible… but those people who made the law never had to argue with Sherlock and tell him no. He had tried in the early days of their _encounters_ to tell Sherlock no, to argue that it was morally wrong and illegal but Sherlock had scoffed and argued his way out of the discussion. Sherlock had insisted that since the biological issue of children wouldn’t be an issue, and neither of them were children or vulnerable then the police shouldn’t or wouldn’t get involved. It wasn’t as though either man would tell.

So Mycroft had given in to his deepest and most sordid fantasy; the first time that it happened he had bent Sherlock over the kitchen table and licked and sucked at his pretty pink hole until Sherlock’s legs gave out and the pair ended up frotting against one another on the kitchen floor due to the lack of lubricant and hindsight. Since then the siblings had kept lube hidden all over the house where other _normal_ people wouldn’t think to look.

It didn’t happen often; Sherlock’s cases and Mycroft’s busy schedule meant that the brothers didn’t get much time alone together, especially not now John was on the scene. The doctor was good for Sherlock and Mycroft had discovered from the first night that he actually liked the short man, they had stopped being openly hostile to one another, and now could sit and have conversations without uncomfortable silences stretching on, which Mycroft counted as progress. When danger nights came around John would call Mycroft and the two Holmes brothers would disappear into the country for a few days and then Sherlock would return to Baker Street and life would continue.

Mycroft flicked through his open file but wasn’t paying attention to the classified information which was contained inside. He strained to hear the sounds of Sherlock showering and humming a deep and resonating tune; relaxing slightly he took another gulp of his whisky and awaited his brother.

Sherlock didn’t disappoint, he flounced into the room all wet chaos and messy curls with only a towel around his waist to hide his modesty. Not that Sherlock _had_ any modesty Mycroft thought to himself before putting down his files and his drink and looking over at the tall lean man,

“Everything okay?” He asked, his genuine smile relaxing Sherlock,

“Yes! I’m fine.” Sherlock replied tensely, “I don’t know why John insisted on calling you...”

“Because you had set fire to his shoes,” Mycroft sighed with a raised, playful eyebrow.

“I offered to buy him more. He’s being irrational.” Sherlock complained, pulling his towel from his waist and trying his curls.

Mycroft's eyes were drawn to Sherlock’s creamy skin; the tiny smattering of hair which covered his chest between the two pink nipples, which had pebbled in the cold night air. Further down he had a darker trail of hair running from his navel down to the bush of brown pubic hair which curled into a nest in which his long, thick and uncut cock lay.

Mycroft felt his face flush with arousal and loosened his tie, in an attempt to allow his lungs to gain more air. Sherlock’s face was covered in the towel as Mycroft reached below and tugged at his now rapidly hardening cock, pressed against the thick woollen trousers; he knew their first time wouldn’t last long, it never did, but he wanted to have some semblance of control.

“Sherlock.” he spoke, deep and careful, “Come here.”

Sherlock pulled the towel from his head and let it pool to the floor in a heap before walking to stand in front of his brother, still fully dressed and perfectly composed compared to Sherlock who was naked, flushed and desperately needy.

“On your knees,” Mycroft ordered, his heart beating faster when Sherlock fell to his knees with no argument,

Sherlock sat back on his heels, his hands on his thighs as he sat patiently at Mycroft’s feet waiting for his next command,

“Unzip me.” Mycroft said in an almost whisper, “but nothing but my trousers.”

Sherlock gave a soft nod and moved his fingers to Mycroft’s crotch; unbuttoning the stiff button was difficult but he managed it quickly before pulling down the zip and exposing Mycroft’s naked length to the air. Sherlock cricked an eyebrow at Mycroft who shrugged at his lack of underwear,

“You know what to do,” Mycroft smiled and watched as Sherlock moved his lips closer to his shaft, his nose burying into the auburn pubic hair and inhaling deeply the smell of Mycroft’s body and arousal. Sherlock shuddered deeply, his legs trembling as he slowly opened his mouth and let his tongue rest on Mycroft’s frenulum, licking a long stripe from tip to base and back up again; this time it was Mycroft’s turn to shudder as the sensations jolted him into a new state of dizzying lust for his baby brother.

Sherlock teased with his tongue for a small while; enjoying familiarising himself with Mycroft’s body, his reactions to stimulus and his scent. Starting at the tip he catalogued each vein and pulse, how Mycroft’s breathing changed each time Sherlock pressed his tongue inside the small slit or used his hands to circle the very base and then pull up, milking the clear fluid which oozed from the head.

Mycroft was struggling to hold on; he thought back to the last time he had orgasmed _(self-gratification, 3 weeks and 4 days ago)_ and then began translations to stave off his orgasm. He began with English to Latin then Latin to Greek and then Greek to English again; his mind wandered as he attempted to control himself and he didn’t notice Sherlock’s Cheshire cat grin.

“You can finish whenever you like, you know,” Sherlock reassured his brother, “I know you’re older now, and it takes longer to recuperate.” he joked kindly causing Mycroft to grab his curls and pull slightly harder than necessary,

“Don’t worry about me, baby brother.” Mycroft smiled with a playful snarl and began pulling Sherlock’s head back and forth over his stiff prick; face fucking him hard and fast until the first tingling sensations started in his spine and radiated outwards.

“Sherlock...” Mycroft groaned, his voice higher than usual “close”

Sherlock whined and closed his eyes as Mycroft pulled out of his mouth coated in viscous spit and began stroking himself quickly over Sherlock’s face. His hips shakily thrust once, twice and then he was releasing onto Sherlock’s face; wave after wave of orgasmic bliss flooded his body as Mycroft painted Sherlock’s perfectly proportioned face with stringy white ropes of warm come. Sherlock choked out a gasp and then fell into silence as both men slowly came down from their rush, looking at the blissed-out and completely filthy Sherlock still on his knees.

Sherlock opened his left eye; the right one was covered in come and he didn’t want to explain to John why he was wearing an eye patch when he returned. He grabbed the towel and wiped the mess from his eye socket before looking up at his brother with a delighted smile.

“Did you?” Mycroft asked, watching Sherlock nod.

The older brother looked between Sherlock’s legs and found a now softening prick surrounded by blobs of white come. Mycroft had always been impressed by Sherlock’s ability to come untouched but enjoyed the scenario as often as possible finding numerous ways to tease the younger man into release without Mycroft even undressing.

Sherlock used the towel to clean himself and Mycroft before sitting on Mycroft’s knee on the steady wingback chair, his naked arse rubbing teasingly against the thick wool of Mycroft’s suit.

“We’ll get you some dinner, and then an early night?” Mycroft suggested, happy when Sherlock agreed without a fight.

  



End file.
